I Ran With Scissors and Lived
by screwthestandard101
Summary: Izaya has found someone that may be able to beat him at his own game. He is not going down without a fight. He likes to be in control, and this behavior of Shizuo's is not acceptable.
1. Chapter 1

Humans were, by nature, fairly predictable and unpredictable. I'd come to see it as my job to pick through them and see which ones were which. The work had become fairly monotonous as of late now that the Dollars and Yellow Scarves had calmed down. Information was scarcely needed and with my decrease in customers, I had grown restless.

I knew of a fair few people who never failed to keep me entertained, but one had decided to flee the city. I wasn't bitter, by any means – merely curious. What did Kida hope to find outside of Ikebukuro, especially with a dead-beat girl? He didn't love her, that much was apparent but he pretended to.

I don't know how thinking about Masaomi leads me to Yuuhei's bar. It was located in the middle district of Ikebukuro, the middle-class part of town. Lately, the bar had come to house some of the city's worst drunks – men and women who wanted nothing more than to drown in their own sorrow. They were sick of life and used the alcohol as an excuse to escape the reality of things. I watched a man put down his second mug, and politely decline as Shizu-chan went to refill it. It wasn't ten minutes later after Shizuo had cleared the mug away that the man nodded and asked him to pour another. Without the mug in front of him, he didn't feel as guilty about the alcohol he had just consumed - having two more glasses wouldn't haunt his conscience. Interesting.

I sat down at the far end of the bar where it was less crowded. This was a public place and although half of its occupants were tipsy and beyond, they were still witnesses nonetheless. I raised my hand, holding out some yen.  
I watched as Shizuo turned, realized it was me who had signaled him and slowly reddened. Well, that was interesting. Was he trying to hold back his anger? I smiled, waving the yen.

"Can I get some service?" It didn't take long before he put the cup he was wiping down and walked stiff-legged to where I sat.

"What do you want, flea?" I scoffed.

"Shizu-chan, you really need to come up with something better. I'm getting bored of that nickname," He opened his mouth to retort, but I quickly cut him off. "You can't say my nickname for you is boring because it obviously pisses you off. Shi-zu-chan." He was about to lose it, I could feel it. The way his body flexed and he gripped the edge of the bar – his eyes behind his glasses betraying every emotion.

"Whatever. What'd you want?"

"You're a poor actor, Shizu-chan. Leave that to your brother." I sighed and flipped the yen in my hand. "What would you suggest? Nothing too strong, I have a weak stomach." Besides the fact that I was riding on his last nerve, the blonde decided to play along. Whether it was because we were on his home turf was a factor that had to be taken into account. I had control here, regardless because one tiny slip from him and it could cost him his job. This thought made me smile and Shizuo rolled his eyes.

"How about I surprise you?" The blonde murmured and I merely nodded. He disappeared under the counter, returning with half a dozen bottles of liquor. From what I could see he had vodka, rum, cranberry juice and a can of Sprite. The bartender grabbed the contained, grabbing the bottle of vodka with a back hand move. The liquid streamed through the nozzle before Shizuo brought it higher, bounced it to cut the flow and flipped the bottle back onto the counter. He did the same with the rum, grabbing the container with a back hand this time as he flipped it. The movement was so quick; the liquid didn't have time to slide back out. He made the drink like it was an art form, keeping me entertained while his underlying intention was to get me as inebriated as possible. I might just let him. The blonde strained the drink over ice, flipping a napkin in front of me before flipping a cherry into the drink to complete it. Amused, I gave him a smile and clapped.

"Bravo, Shizu-chan. Is that what they teach you in school? I'm thoroughly impressed." The brute leaned on the counter, wiping a cloth over it. "And you resisted the urge to poison it, too? You never fail to entertain me."

"Will you just shut up and drink it?"

I humored him, taking the tiniest of sips. I was never much of an alcohol person, and although it was bitter with the cranberry juice that he had added on a whim, it also intensified the blend of other flavors and tied them together.

"Not bad. Not bad at all, Shizu-chan. I may hire you to work for me one of these days."

"This isn't easy for me, I hope you know." The blonde wrung his hands together, something I found alarming. Shizuo was a blunt person. He didn't get nervous or waste words on trivialities, least of all on me.

"Things rarely are." I replied smoothly, sipping the concoction with delight.

"You ain't making this any easier." I opened my mouth to retort before quickly realizing that this wasn't going to get us anywhere. The man was a mess when it came to sorting through his emotions, at least that's what I had learned through endless observation, and clearly he was having a hard time although I was the only one in his company. By now the bar had been empty for the last twenty minutes or so. It must have neared midnight and those too intoxicated to drive had started the long walk home. I leaned onto the bar, doing my best to suppress a smile that I knew he would find irritating.

"Shizu-chan? Talk to me, what is it? I won't bite if that's what you're afraid of. I'm fairly harmless most of the time." He reached out, and for a minute I thought he was about to grab me by the collar. His hand landed instead on the bottle in front of me.  
"I'm not going to kill you, Izaya-kun…not yet." Oh? Well, this was new. I leaned in closer, my nose barely touching his. I thought he might shrink away from me, but that apparently was not the case.

"And why is that?"

"Because…" He pointed to the drink that I had drained completely without my knowledge. It had been full last time I checked. Was it really _that_ good? "Obviously you're drunk. And while it would give me great pleasure to throw your ass on the curb, I'm not that mean."

Was I drunk? Was that what this new feeling was? I tried to center myself, concentrate on anything in the room without it swirling out of focus, but to no avail.

"You've never had alcohol before? I find that hard to believe." The bartender crossed his arms.

"Ehhh…once or twice. I'm not fond of it, by any means." My speech was fine. It wasn't fluctuating like normal people who appeared drunk. Was Shizuo trying to make me second guess myself? I was the one in control.

"Well, you're definitely buzzed then. As much as it pains me, I'll walk your ass home after my shift. Just sit tight here for an hour or so, kay? Don't do anything stupid."

This new side to Shizuo was confusing. Normal Shizu-chan would have punched me in the face and thrown me out by now. I had taunted him, not as much as usual, but enough to strike a nerve. Had the blonde really learned how to control himself? I highly doubted that Shizuo had become a saint overnight and the longer I sat in the stool, watching the one man I hated most on this earth, the more I came to realize that I hated him because he didn't get boring. While Shizuo was predictable with his actions, his motives seemed to switch daily. Sure, he wanted to kill me – but his reasoning, what was his reasoning? Tonight he could have made a perfect example of me – dumped me into an alleyway, beaten the living shit out of me.

In my clouded state, the thought struck me. Shizuo was keeping not only me _alive_ by trying to _kill_ me, but him alive as well. It was an ass-backwards theory, but somehow it made sense. To tell the truth, I'm a little ashamed and humiliated that I didn't figure it out sooner. Shizuo was playing his own game with me, while I played mine. But…what would happen if our games melted into one? 


	2. Chapter 2

Humans do not have control. I have to be in control for them. I love humanity for its weaknesses and faults, strengths and triumphs. I'm cocky, but rightfully so. I can love everyone even when they can't love themselves.

I took one look at the bartender who was busy putting bottles of liquor away. What was his reason for living? Obviously he loathed himself and everything he touched – that much was apparent in his mannerisms. Perhaps that's another reason why I despise Shizuo. He throws off my game – I love to hate him.

During the hour that his shift went on, the blonde supplied me with drinks. I honestly thought of declining at one point but a feeling of compulsion overtook me. As shallow of me as it was, I honestly wanted to blame Shizuo for my misfortune. Perhaps he'd laced my drink with something. The feeling was slow, it took time to creep through my senses and shut them down one by one. I felt light headed first before it became increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. Why did people do this? Where was the thrill in wanting to crawl in a hole for an eternity and sleep? Perhaps being intoxicated affected me differently than others. Part of me almost expected it to be different. I wasn't like other humans – humans in general. They were weak-minded and easy to manipulate – I was nothing of the sort.

Alcohol has a way of breaking a person down until there's nothing left to expose. It makes us confess our inner demons, rattle the skeletons in our closets; I embraced it. Being vulnerable could have its perks. Being with Shizu-chan; however, might prove problematic.  
The man returned to my table, collecting the three drinks that I had downed in his absence. I smiled coyly at the blonde, licking the sugar on the rim of the glass. He watched me curiously, our eyes met and I gave him a wink. He broke eye contact first – I was still in control.

"Shizu-chan, you'll take me home now?" The blonde grunted, making some non-committal noises as he helped me up. I assumed he was more than _thrilled_ to help me. Movement in my legs was more or less restricted and I had to literally hold onto him in order to extract myself from the seat.

"How are you feeling?"Shizu-chan was asking out of the barest courtesy because even he wasn't that ruthless. He didn't want to take me home, it was simply that he had to. I had to think about his previous question as the man half-dragged me to the door. At one point or another I simply gave up using my legs altogether and collapsed beneath my own weight. I would have been more than happy to stay in the bar and sleep it off.

"Mm, not so good, Shizu-chan. I really would rather choke a duck than walk all the way home." For the life of me I couldn't understand why the blonde raised a brow at me and tugged me up. Childishly, I pulled him down with me. "Let's stay down here. It's too high up there and bright."

"Izaya, you need to let go of me so I can take you home."

"Mm, make me." I didn't think that he would relent so easily and was thrilled when he pulled me up by the collar and propped me against the table. "Oooh, Shizu-chan? Can I have a piggyback ride? I'm stuck." Ah, and this is the part where the alcohol begins to deteriorate my speech, lovely. It was funny that my thoughts were still intact, but my mouth was not in sync with my brain.

"You're an idiot." He complied, however, and bent down low enough that I could scramble unceremoniously onto his back. I latched my arms around the man's neck, burrowing my face into his hair. If I was going to get the most out of this experience, I better start now. It might have been my main goal to piss Shizuo off now that I was inebriated. How much of a peaceful man could he be when his enemy was taking advantage of him?

We wandered around the city for the better part of an hour. I kept slipping off of Shizuo's back and he patiently waited until I was righted before we were off once more. His patience didn't last.

I've determined that people get inebriated for one purpose only, to do whatever the hell they want. Alcohol gives you the excuse to hang all over the one person you hate the most.

"Shizu-chan, I feel funny." Shizuo grunted, attempting to find my key. I placed my hands on his cheeks, jerking his head up to look at me. "I feel funny."

"You're hilarious, Izaya. Now, let me go so I can find your god damn keys." The blonde gaped when I had the audacity to laugh, nearly toppling over as I shook with mirth. "Where are they?"

"That's not fun at all, try guessing. Don't you like a challenge?" I murmured, sliding off his back to lean against the door.

"Listen, flea – I'm doing you a huge favor by bringing you home and now you're being a pain in the ass. Granted you're piss drunk, but still. Man UP, show a little decency and help me the fuck out."  
THIS was the Shizu-chan that I had been waiting for all night. I took his verbal assault in stride, opening my arms in response.

"You're not special, Shizuo. You have to work for what you want." The bartender was quick to retort.

"Or I can leave your ass on the curb. Which do you want?" I could see his resolve crumbling and decided to help him out by placing his hand on my chest. The strong man of Ikebukuro pulled back in disgust, snarling. "I don't bite." I chuckled at the blonde's doubtful look, once again guiding his hand to my chest. Shizuo clutched my shirt, and used his other hand to rifle through the pockets of my coat. When he didn't find the silver key, he moved to the pockets of my jeans. This proved to be unsuccessful and he glanced down at me with a scowl, tugging me closer until I was against his chest.

I had protection. I was drunk and since he was the one who had gotten me drunk in the first place, touching me roughly was off-limits. In my current state I was fragile and he knew that I had the upper hand. Shizuo's hand searched my back pocket, grabbing the key before he shoved me into the nearest wall. My head spun violently from the contact, and I hissed.

"Oooh, Shizu-chan. Getting grabby aren't we?" The bartender snorted, jamming the key into the lock with such force that it crumpled. Useless, I wouldn't be getting into my apartment tonight. I paused in the nursing of my head to look at him, critically gauging his reaction. Shizuo's face flushed from what I assumed could only embarrassment and frustration. He couldn't blame me for this one – his temper had been his own downfall.

"Fuck. Just what the hell am I supposed to do with you now?" My eyes lit up as I pushed off from the wall and draped an arm around his shoulders. The man was pissed and I wanted to keep him that way.

"Mm, you could take me home and do naughty things to me." I blinked when he blinked and for the first time since this whole ordeal began we were on the same page. What the hell had I just said? I tried to talk my way out of the unintentional blunder to no avail. I was beginning to understand the damaging effects of liquor.

"I'm completely defenseless, Shizu-chan. You could take out all that anger and frustration on me – punish me." I was appalled by the fact that I sounded like a cheap whore and one glance at Shizuo told me that he was equally as disgusted as he roughly pushed me away.

"Listen to yourself, flea! You sound ridiculous, what are you saying?" I didn't know. I didn't know and try as I might, I couldn't stop. I hated not being in control – this feeling was foreign and disgusting but I had done it to myself. I had wanted to feel helpless and exposed – now, I did not. I'd made a mistake by going to the bar tonight – a fatal one. The things I was saying to Shizuo could not be taken back. I had set myself back in my plan…or had I? Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. It would take cunning and careful manipulation, but I could use all of this. In the end, I would not let him win.


	3. Chapter 3

Both of us were thrust into a position that made us uncomfortable but we could do nothing about it. The blonde walked in silence and I chose to honor his unspoken request.  
Shizuo didn't take me to his apartment as I thought he would. Instead, the bartender took a sharp right and before I knew it we were standing in front of the familiar fortress of a underground doctor. Shizu-chan half dragged me up the stairs because I had grown bored of trying to cooperate. I thought he was going to punch me at one point, but he held back as the door swung open. Celty ushered us in, giving me what I assumed to be the once over. It was apparent by her mannerisms that she questioned my state and looked (again, I just assume she looked) at Shizuo expectantly. In response, the bartender unceremoniously dropped me onto the leather sofa.

"He's a bit shit-faced. Mind if he crashes here?" The dark aura around the Black Rider pulled violently. She reached for her phone and began to type rapidly, before she pushed it in Shizuo's face. "My apartment is out of the question. At least that idiot is neutral with you and Shinra…speaking of whom, where is he?" The woman placed a hand on her hip, before she pointed the bedroom door. Celty typed a longer message, one that made Shizuo blush considerably before the color drained from his face completely. "Right…I'll leave you two alone."

As soon as I had gotten somewhat comfortable, the blonde pulled me back up, hurrying me out of the apartment.

"Nngh? Now, where are we going, Shi-zu-chan?" His hand clenched mine tightly as he tugged me down the street, murmuring irritated noncommittal sounds as we rounded the corner.

Guilt did strange things to people. Was Shizuo honestly feeling guilty about the situation? Granted, it was his fault – but it was also partially mine as well. I had been more willing to drink the poison that he'd prepared for me earlier in the evening. In fact, I had been the one to initiate contact and asked him to make it – I knew full well what I was getting myself into.

Vaguely, I wondered whether Shizzy would just drop me at a cheap hotel and let me sober up. It would have been like him. I tried to maneuver the hand that wasn't clasped with his into my pocket, brushing my fingertips over the remaining yen. If it did come to a hotel I wouldn't be able to afford one, at least not on my own.

I'd never realized how many broken people there were in the city of Ikebukuro. They hid in the shadows of alleyways, lighting up – their hollow eyes reflecting the flickering flame. Hands trembling, mouths greedily sucking the smoke in, blackening their lungs. Needles hidden inside collapsed veins, syringes filled with blood and toxins being pushed into blood streams – we were in the slums.

Despite all the poverty, I was amused. Walking through this environment, I vaguely wondered if Shizuo had ever been tempted to strike them – beat some sense into them. I looked at the humans – my humans – sprawled across benches, leaning against walls. The drunks, the smokers, the druggies – they were all the same, boring.

I looked up at Shizuo who didn't make eye contact with anyone and kept his pace brisk. He could have been one of those people, too. He smoked and it was more than likely that he drank to relieve the daily nerve strain (especially with a person like me to worry about), but unlike those people, he had a reason to live. I was repeating myself, but I wanted to know what that reason was.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the small, rundown apartment. Shizuo shoved the key into the lock and flipped the switch for the light. The blonde stepped back to allow me inside, raking his eyes over me. Did he think that I'd fall? Pfft. As soon as I crossed the threshold, he shut the door and locked it once more.

His apartment was simple – quaint, and I honestly had expected it to be much more. An empty coke can stuffed with dead cigarettes sat on the end table and the blonde picked it up on his way into the kitchen, recycling it. I wasn't sure what I was expected to do so I sat (dropped) on the floor, legs crossed. The distinct smell of coffee filtered through the room a moment later and I waited patiently for Shizuo to bring me a mug. That never happened.

"Cream and sugar, please." I called, only to have my request met with silence. Irritated, I pushed myself up on wobbly legs, feeling much like a newborn as I teetered into the kitchen. The bartender glanced at me over his mug, pointing to the pot.

"You like a challenge, Izaya. You'll have to work for it." I wanted him to choke on the words I had previously used against him.

The first time that I had been intoxicated in quite a while, I had coffee in the kitchen of my favorite enemy.


End file.
